Within His Mother’s Womb He grows,
With teeny Feet and tiny Toes.
Is it Her Voice that sparks His kick,
As fire ignites a candle’s wick?
Above a stable formed from stone,
Exultant singing angels shone.
The Virgin swaddles Her new Son,
Divine, yet just like ev’ryone,
With Hands and Feet and Eyes that glow.
He’s warmly kissed from Head to Toe.
Although She held Him by the Hand,
Delight ensued to see Him stand.
In time, He promptly learned to walk
Before they ever heard Him talk.
He even ran to Mother fleet,
Who lifted Him up off His Feet.
Unworthy to untie His lace,
The Baptist sees his Savior’s Face.
He stepped into the Jordan’s stream.
Behold, the Holy Spirit’s beam.
He wandered through the desert free,
Though, hounded by the Devil’s plea:
“If from the parapet You fly,
With angels nigh, You will not die.”
“You shall not try the Lord to test,
For what you say is not the best.”
To fisherman: “Come follow Me.
The Gospel Truth will set you free.”
From town to town, they trudge along.
By loving faith does one belong.
Upon His Feet a woman’s tears
Provoke the hypocrites to jeers.
“Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.
From your past sins now you must cease.”
Upon the sea on windy night,
They see in fright a ghostly sight.
He walks on water. “Have no fear.”
Now Peter asks to call him near.
But like a rock, he started down.
So, Jesus snatched him lest he drown.
Apostles sent out two by two
To preach the Word like welcome dew.
“If they reject you, then you must
Go; from your sandals shake the dust.”
He casts out demons, cures the lame,
Absolving sinners from their shame.
“Rise from your stretcher; you are healed.”
The might of God has been revealed.
While Martha works, her sister sits
Close to His Feet to hear His wits.
In Bethany a posh perfume
Prepares His Body for the tomb.
Astride a colt, the King is hailed.
His humble glory thus prevailed.
With palms and cloaks upon the road,
To destiny, He bravely rode.
Before He sent them out to preach,
He washed their feet; by this to teach
That where they go they purify,
Although some witness as they die.
At night, they climb Mount Olivet
Where He endures a Bloody Sweat.
Clouds shade the light cast from the Moon,
While footsteps loom in somber gloom
Of brutes to bind the Son of Man.
In panic, His disciples ran.
Compelled to go against His Will
To unjust priests in midnight chill,
The Christ must bear unfaithfulness,
Abuse, misjudgment and distress.
To Pilate, Herod, back He goes,
Manhandled by ferocious foes.
Though Simon eased the pressing weight,
His Cross He carries out the gate
Up to Mount Calvary to die.
Upon the wood He’s forced to lie.
His Sacred Feet, nailed to the Cross,
Are swathed with Precious Blood He lost.
When hoisted up, He felt His weight,
Yet hours more for death to wait.
There at His Feet good women mourn.
The sanctuary veil is torn.
There is no need to break His Legs.
So, Joseph for His Body begs.
They draw the nails most carefully.
His Mother holds Him lovingly.
The soldiers by the tomb at night
Are dazed to see Him stand upright.
Two angels question Magdalene,
Who thought that they were merely men.
The Lord appears not quite the same.
She knows Him when He calls her name.
She clings to Him but He must leave.
“Now, let Me go and do not cleave.
Go to My brethren with Good News,
The ones that I had sent in twos.”
He walks with two along the road
Until they get to their abode.
He broke the bread, then disappeared.
Returning, they rejoiced yet feared.
The Cenacle is locked this night,
So they are startled at the sight
Of Jesus living in the Flesh.
He eats a piece of fish still fresh.
With nimbleness He sprightly moves.
Thus, His divinity He proves.
Up to the mountain, they ascend.
He sends them to Earth’s furthest end,
To preach and baptize in His Name.
With them, He promised to remain.
Lo, He flies upward to the skies
As clouds meet Him before their eyes.
The last they see: His Holy Feet.
Now, by God’s throne, He takes His seat.
The universe beneath Him now…
While faithful ones adore and bow.
To kiss His Holy Feet I strive,
Thanks to His grace while I’m alive.
